


Underneath the Sunrise

by charthan



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Hightown Funk Exchange, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Mutual Pining, Purple Hawke, Slight Canon Divergence, alcohol use, freeform hawke, story told from multiple points in time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 06:09:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17197982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charthan/pseuds/charthan
Summary: Cassandra comes to Varric, wanting to know the story of his and Hawke’s relationship. He complies, to an extent, telling her a decorated, and mostly fabricated story to appease her. Their legitimate story doesn’t need to be anyone else’s business.





	Underneath the Sunrise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SaintLeona](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaintLeona/gifts).



The Seeker finds him hiding in an alcove of the library, where he is trying to actually get some work done. Merchant guild affairs that he would rather forget about, a lengthy letter from his editor and the subsequent longer letter accusing him of ignoring her. Not to mention the numerous letters to his various connections that the Inquisition has him writing. To top it all off, it was snowing.

 

He groans, noticing her impending approach,“I’m busy.”

Cassandra moves the many papers off the armchair opposite to him, stacking them on top of the end table and sits down.

Varric looks at her, displeased, “What do you want?” He assumes she has come to acost him about some inquisition business that he screwed up.

“I have a question for you.” She obliges

“If it’s about one of my future books, you can wait till they are published, just like everyone else.” He turns his attention back to his papers

“I’m curious.” Cassandra asks, “You and Hawke.”

 

This pipes his interest. He perks up, his annoyance starting to shy away, “I was wondering when you would figure it out.”

“I have known for awhile, Varric. I was giving you-” Her forehead creases “-space.”

Varric’s expression briefly hardens,“What would you like to know?” He chastens.

“When did you and Hawke..”

“Start our passionate love affair?” Varric interrupts, “I can tell you _all_ about it.”

“No!” Varric looks at her, eyebrows raised. “Alright, yes.” Cassandra swallowing her pride, “I would like that very much.”

“Do you want me to start from the very beginning?” She nods eagerly.

 

Varric abandons his work, discarding the papers onto the stack upon the aforementioned table. He clears his throat and begins to speak in his captivating storyteller voice. “It all began a little over ten years ago when-”

 

“Not that beginning!” Cassandra cuts him off, “I’ve heard that one before.”

Varric smiles, and leans back into his chair. “You heard a version of it, but I omitted some very key details.”

“Alright.” Cassandra sighs “Continue.”

“As I was saying, it all began a little over ten years ago, when my brother refused to let Hawke and her sister join the expedition. He didn’t quite see their potential, and he was always so stubborn. Anyways, I went to track her down, after Bartrand told me how ‘some intruding humans were trying to push their way onto our expedition.’ I had been hearing lots of interesting talk around Lowtown about this human who went by the name of Hawke, and wanted to give her a second chance.”

“Maker, that may have been the best decision I’ve ever made. When I first saw her, I thought she was gorgeous. She really was, even with the whole ‘poor refugee’ look, messy hair and blood stained clothes. And I’m not into humans, or wasn’t. Well, honestly. Hawke- was an exception.”

 

 

*****

  


_Varric continued his tale. He confesses, even though he found her attractive at first, it was diminished quickly. To an extent. They became business partners, then friends. Pretty close friends. They drank, and played cards. He was with her, right by her side, as she sauntered around the city, being a hero._

 

_After the expedition, his affection grew rather quickly. He kept it to himself. Hawke had unexpectedly become his best friend, and he wasn’t eager to lose the closest friend he had ever had. He was also quite sure of himself that she did not feel the same, that their fun flirty banter was only that, banter._

 

 _There was an altercation with some Tal-Vashoth mercenaries on the coast, Hawke had gotten sliced on her thigh and collapsed. He, and their companions were quick to her side, but she was losing blood and quickly lost consciousness. She woke up a few hours later, in a tent, still sore from the fight, but alive. Thanks to blondie and his healing. Varric was next to her when she woke, and he confessed to her “_ _I cannot hide my feelings anymore_ _.” Hawke had responded by kissing him._

 

_Cassandra smiled absentmindedly, completely absorbed in Varric’s romantic tale.  It really was a lovely story. Such a shame it was just that, a story._

  
  


*****

  


In spite of it being mid spring, the cold winter wind still blew in from the Waking Sea, chilling Kirkwall to its core. Which could, to a certain extent, explain why Varric had nearly forgot. He’s not sure how he could have possibly forgotten, not that he had ‘anniversary of Leandra’s death’ marked on his calendar. He was merely preoccupied with his latest novel when some bullshit merchant guild business came up and metaphorically smacked him onto his ass. He _had_ planned to head over to the Amell estate with Hawke’s favourite cinnamon apple rolls and a couple bottles of expensive wine. Not that some wine and rolls would help with her grieving the death of her mother, but it was the least he could do. Well, something he could do.

 

It wasn’t until he heard the sounds drifting up from the bar of a fight breaking out, when he realized how late it was. He was out the door in a minute, throwing on his duster as he maneuvered through the crowd of drunks. He managed to snag a bottle of something alcoholic from the table of some unsuspecting patrons. Hawke wasn’t going to be alone this year. Not again.

 

Varric made his way up into hightown, normally he’d be complaining about the trek but the climb up the hundreds of steps hardly crossed his mind. He passed a bakery. He mentally kicked himself for getting distracted, then he kicked himself for being more focused on food than on Hawke. _Hawke._

 

He’s breathless when he reaches the door of the Amell estate. The knocker on the door is shaped like a bird, elaborate and made of bronze. It was one of the only things Hawke changed when she moved into the estate. Everything else was restored in the way her mother had remembered, right down to tracking down a carved oak desk that Leandra’s grandfather would spend time at.

 

To Leandra, the estate was home, but Hawke had never felt the same, spending nights at The Hanged Man, and making excuses to be out of the house often. But, ever since her mother died, Hawke was much more inclined to spend time there.

He stands on his tip toes to reach the knocker -blasted humans and their height- but the door flies open, knocking him over in surprise. It’s Hawke, standing there in her coat that has too many buckles.

 

“I was just on my way to find you.” She says, hauling him back onto his feet.

“Well, good thing I flew here to meet you on your front steps.” Varric smirks, and Hawke leans down to give him a one armed hug.

 

Hawke lets him in, despite her welcoming smile, her face tells another story. The bags under her eyes are prominent. Her hair is tied back, not out of convenience like it normally is, but probably to disguise that she hadn’t washed it recently.  Varric looks around for the other residents of the estate, Bodan, Sandal and Orana.

 

“I gave them the weekend off.” Hawke says, seeing him looking around, and leads them into her favourite place, the study.

 

Hawke takes her jacket off and tosses it over the chair by the desk. She takes off her scabbard and removes the knife from the inside of her boot, before kicking the boots off entirely. Making himself at home, Varric settles down onto the sofa, taking off his boots as well. The sofa had  been pushed into the most tactically efficient spot in the room, facing the door, but at an angle as to get some of the heat from the fire. Varric pulls a side table up to them and pulls the bottle- which he now notices is some decently shitty wine- out of his messenger bag.

 

“Oh, Varric, you shouldn’t have.” Hawke says in mock politeness, when she sees what he has procured.

“You're right, I probably shouldn’t have.” Varric replies. “But if it makes you feel better, I stole it.”

Hawke doesn’t miss a beat, “Stolen alcohol always tastes better anyways."

 

Hawke wanders off to the kitchen and returns with two clean glasses and drops onto the couch almost dramatically. Varric uncorks the wine and pours them each a small glass. He clinks her glass, and says a wordless toast. Varric takes a sip, Hawke drains her glass. She pours herself another one, a larger one.

 

Another glass of wine and what feels like an hour later, she’s still listening to him rambling on about his day. Something to distract her, and partly because he has no idea how to console her. Last year was much easier, the city was in too much of a wreck for most people to get distracted by other things. It had been months since the invasion but Kirkwall was still under chaos. Not having a viscount certainly didn't help the matter. Commander Meredith had stepped up, named Hawke champion and promptly returned to focusing on her templars, leaving Hawke in charge. The people  of lowtown all already looked towards her anyways. He felt awful for forgetting, but to be honest, he was pretty sure Hawke forgot too, until she had a moment alone to herself. Varric could only imagine how she felt with the city looking to her, but he knew too well how it felt to mourn alone.

 

“Thank you.” Hawke finally speaks. “Really, for coming.”

“I figured you’d be drinking, and it's not as fun to drink alone.” Varric says “besides I owe you one.”

Hawke makes a face, “Which one, was it when I helped you dodge that drunk who was about to puke all over your favourite coat” She gives a forceful smile

“Nah, but I guess I still owe you for that. Then again the amount of times I've held back _your_ hair while you were puking, I’d call us even.”

Hawke shakes her head, but she knows he’s right.

 

“I owe you for being around.. After Bartrand.”

It’s quiet, the time after the expedition looms over them. They unspokenly decided to never mention it..“Do you miss him?” Hawke says, Shes sincere.

“Sometimes,” Varric pauses “but he was never around much to begin with. Even when Mom was dying, he was barely there.”

Hawke nods. “I miss Bethany everyday.”

Varric agrees “She’s a good kid, I’m sure she's bossing all those Wardens around”

Hawke laughs, shortly. “Maker. At the least.. she’s alive.” she inhales loudly, holding back tears. “I still failed her. I couldn’t save anyone.”

 

Hawke crying, not a usual thing. Varric had seen her cry before, but it was not a situation he could ever get used to.

“I.. have no family left.” she swallows, and turns away, trying to hide her tears. Varric puts a hand on her shoulder, and she starts to sob. Wait, no, she’s laughing. “There’s only Gamlen. And he’s useless!” She’s really laughing. Full on cackling.

 

“Out of anyone in my family, Andraste herself felt Gamlen was worthy of living!”

Varric's laughing now, “You never know, his poor gambling skills could save the world one day.”

Hawke’s smile faded, along with her laugh. She stared off, her gaze fixed on the hearth, the flames danced around the logs.

“Don’t blame yourself for everything.” Varric says “Not all of it was your fault.”

“But it was-”

“Come on, I was the one who recruited you and Beth for the expedition. If anything, that's my fault.”

“But you didn’t make her come along. She insisted on coming along..” Hawke smiles fondly. “I forgot how bossy she is. In a sweet way, but still bossy.”

“She really is something.”

Hawke reaches out and drains the rest of her cup. “Want another?”

“Why not?” Varric replies

 

 

*****

 

 

“Do you remember how big that fucking dragon was?! I swear, it was bigger than-” Varric stops to smother a burp “-this house!”

“No! It was maybe 10 meters tall. At most. You’re just short.” Hawke replies

“I’m short! Not _blind_ , Hawke” Varric replies

“You are-” Hawke laughs, “An unreliable narrator.”

“Okay, okay, okay. I may _embellish_. A bit. But I'm not that bad!” Varric says

“You once told a story in the bar about how I threw a carta member through a window on the third floor, then jumped after him to finish the job.” Hawke says

“It was a good story. People eat that shit up.” Varric explains

 

Hawke scoffs.

“Hey, it gives them hope, and shit. Then they buy us drinks, because we are heroes.” Varric says

“We? I distinctly remember me being a hero, but you?”

“I helped!” Varric insists “I.. provided long range cover.”

“You were usually too busy making love to your crossbow!!”

“Excuse you, she’s a lady.” Varric says in mock offense.

“ _She_ is just a crossbow.”

“You take that back.”

“No.” Hawke pauses. “But, **if** you tell me why she's named Bianca, I might give you a half assed apology”

 

Hawke stares him down, cocking an eyebrow

Varric drains the rest of his drink, “..Fine. But only, if you promise to never tell anyone else.” Varric says sternly.

“I swear.” She says, placing her hand over her heart

“And-”

“Varric, just tell me.”

“ **And** , you have to tell me a deep dark secret of yours.”

“So.. her namesake is a deep dark secret?”

“Shut up, is it a deal?”

“Fine. You have to go first.”

 

Varric sighs. “My crossbow is named after the woman who designed her.”

“That's not very deep and dark.”

“I’m not finished!” Varric continues, “We were.. Close.”

“Do you love her.” Hawkes words spill out.

“I did, for a long time.”

“...What happened?” Hawke is attentive.

“Life happened, I suppose. That’s what I used to tell people.” Varric sighs, “To be honest, she left me. Broke my heart.”

“Left you? She must be thick. Clearly she didn’t see how.. Useful.. You are.” She confessed.

“Useful? That's the best you could come up with?”

“Is dependable better? Or would you prefer getting compared to a pond leech who won’t just

leave? I know how much you love your metaphors.”

“Very funny.”

 

Hawke’s tone changes, “Jokes aside, fuck her. She clearly didn’t appreciate what she had.”

“You mean that?”

“Yeah. Come on, you’re clearly.. Beautiful.”

“Beautiful?”

“Handsome. Whatever. And you’re devoted. And you’re a bit of a romantic. Maybe a bit too much, but it's better than being cold and distant.”

“You think I’m romantic?” Varric gives her a sly smile.

 

Hawke shoves him off the couch. “Just take the fucking compliment, okay.”

Varric pulls himself back onto the couch. “Alright. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Hawke bumps shoulders with him

“So that was my dark secret, what’s yours?” Varric asks, eager to change the subject

“I… haven’t thought of one, well one that I haven't told you already.” She confesses, “I think you know all my secrets.”

“Come on, I've sure there's something.”

 

A thought crosses her mind, Varric can see it in her eyes. The contemplation. “Nope. I don’t think so.” She bluffs.

Varric squints at her. But he can see she's uncharacteristically worried. “Well, you owe me a secret, so when you think of one..”

“I know, I know. I’ll tell you when I remember one that I haven't told you before.”

Hawke puts down her empty glass, and leans back against the couch. Varric unconsciously mimics her.

“There’s one thing.” she pipes up.

 

Varric turns to look at her, and she's looking right at him He can see how vibrant her eyes are, and the scar across her nose looks so much more pink up close. He wants to, he thinks he should, look away. But the way she’s looking at him, right now. In this moment, he's got a stupid dumb idea. It doesn’t just cross his mind, it berrates it. Maker all he can think about right now is-

 

Hawke takes him by surprise, and kisses him. It takes Varric about 8 seconds to process what in the hell is happening, when Hawke pulls away and looks down at her hands, embarrassed. Varric is warm, hot. His face feels hot. He wishes he could blame the wine.

 

He takes her hand. Immediately asking himself, why did he do that? Now his dominant hand is on her shoulder, and she's looking at him again, with those eyes, and her regular, intense, yet carefree look has been replaced with embarrassment.

 

He kisses her back. _Maker_ , does he kiss her back. He kisses her like he’s never kissed before. (It has been longer than he’d like to admit since he had a good kiss.) His left hand is threading through her hair like he always imagined, and she's got her hands on his neck, pulling him closer, if it was possible for him to get any closer.

 

The kisses are raw, and passionate, and rushed. Overdue affection that's finally hit the boiling point and is now spewing all over the stove top. All he can think about is Hawke. _Hawke_ . Kissing _him_ . Hawke’s hand grasping the hair on the back of his head. Hawke’s lips. The feel of her hips under his hands. His hands that want to pull her onto his lap. His hands that want to rip off the linen shirt, and the underclothes under that. His hands that will grasp her, feel every _inch_ of her skin.

 

He breaks away for moment, before moving onto her neck, kissing softly at first. She sighs, and it nearly breaks him. He pulls her as close as he can without letting her fully straddle him. She urges him away from her neck and back to her mouth. She’s letting his lips take the wheel, but her hands tell a different story. They wander, around his neck, through his hair, down his chest, stroking the hair on his chest, and grasping his nipple. She bites his lip and-

 

Varric pulls back, not completely, and smoothes her hair. “I think we’ve had too much wine.”

Hawke takes her hand off his chest, and neck, resting them on her lap. She nods slightly. She is flushed from her cheeks, all the way down her chest.

 

“Probably.” she replies

“Not that I didn’t enjoy that.”

“Of course.”

“Because I did.” She takes her focus off her hands and back to him, “We- uh, should probably not do this now when we’re drunk and-”

“When I'm not sad and vulnerable because it’s the anniversary of my mothers traumatic death?”

“Exactly.” Varric gave her a forced half smile, “Bad circumstances.”

Hawke scoots back, their knees no longer touching. “It’s okay, I get it.” she fiddles with the hole in the knee of her pants.

 

Varric sighs, “Not like that.”

Hawke leans forward, and grips her knees“Like _what_ then?”

“It’s- we’re friends Hawke.”

 

He scoots closer to her“You’re my best friend, I don’t want you to kiss me because you're sad, lonely and drunk, I want you to kiss me because you _want_ to kiss me.”

Hawke doesn’t say anything, she sits there, contemplating. “Who says I don’t want to kiss you.”

Varric sighs, turning back to her. “That’s- not exactly what I meant.”

“Then tell me what you meant.”

“ -I don’t want you to fu-” he stops himself,  “sleep with me because you need someone to distract yourself from all the shit going on in your life.”

Varric ran his hand over his face,“But it’s not just that. -I want you to.. Shit, I don’t know, want me?”

“I do. Want you.” she turns scarlet, realizing what she's said as she says it.

 

Varric contemplates for a minute, his inebriated brain trying to absorb Hawke’s words. “You want me?”

“That _is_ what I said.” she looks up from her hands, “You wanted my deep dark secret. There it is.” Hawke smiles awkwardly, before turning her attention back to her knee.

 

Varric chuckles, shaking his head

“Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you.” Varric composes himself, “Okay, I am. But I’m laughing at us, for being fucking idiots.”

“We?”

“Did you ever think that I felt the same way?”

“I didn’t say I felt anything.”

“Yes you did. Now answer the damn question.”

“..Maybe. Fleetingly.”

“Well, I was off thinking the same damn thing, lying awake at night after wicked grace nights, replaying it in my mind, hoping I wasn’t- I don’t know.”

“You laid awake at night thinking about me?” She's stunned. “Maker..” It hits her, “We are idiots. We are _fucking_ idiots.”

“This whole damn time…” She cuts him off with a kiss, which he reciprocates, savouring it, before pulling back again. “You’re still drunk and sad.”

“...I know.”

“We should probably have a real conversation, later. Tomorrow.”

“Definitely, a real conversation. About feelings.” She smirks, “Doesn’t mean we still can’t have fun.”

 

Varric sighs, “Tomorrow.” He kisses her cheek, “It’s not that I don’t want to.” He takes her hand, “I- I’ve been fucked over before. Not just by Bianca. I only want us to be on the same page. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” Hawke, now understanding his hesitation. “Alright. A conversation tomorrow.”

Varric gives her a soft smile, “I can come back in the morning and we can nurse the hangovers together.”

 

“You’re leaving?”

“I don’t have to, if you don’t want me to.”

“I’m _sad and lonely_ , Varric. I don’t want to be alone. I leaving the house earlier with the intention of going over to your place to drink until I passed out on your couch.”

“Stay here tonight.” she takes his hand, “Please?” she adds

She gives him a look that melts him to his core, “Anything for you.”

  


*****

  


_In the morning, Varric and Hawke had a  much needed conversation about their feelings. They laughed at how blind they had been. Once that was out in the open, the awkwardness blew away like the wind, They were each other's best friend. Partners in crime. None of their friends were that shocked when they told them about their relationship, well. Isabela had figured out that they were hopelessly in love with each other years earlier, and that they were oblivious to the whole thing. She said she knew they would figure it out eventually, there was not a need for her to meddle._

_There were plenty of people who didn’t know, people who didn’t need to know. The passing templar or the woman at the fruit stand didn’t need to know who the champion was sleeping with. It wasn’t their business._

_They were happy together. Partners, in every sense of the word. They could have stayed in their bubble forever, but, like his stories, they didn’t have a happy ending._

_The Kirkwall Rebellion began, and Hawke had to leave the city. She urged Varric to stay behind, the city was a mess, someone needed to help and that somebody wasn’t her this time. He didn’t beg her to stay, or beg to come along. He didn’t like it, but he knew she was right._

 

_He made her promise to stay safe, and come back to him in one piece. They figured it would be a few weeks, maybe a few months at most, for things to calm down._

  


*****

  


“After Haven, I contacted her. she arrived at Skyhold, you, of course, remember her grand entrance. I’ve never seen you so disappointed.” Varric smiles fondly at the memory.

“You described her much more eloquently.”

“They say never meet your heroes.”

“She was-” her voice halters, “I admired her.”

 

Varric ignores her admission, “Moving on. We were in the middle of a plan to smuggle her back into the city. You so rudely interrupted that by kidnapping me.”

“We _needed_ information.” Cassandra insists.

“And I wouldn’t have given that information up, even if you had torn off my fingernails one by one.” he retorts.

 

Cassandra sighs, “I would never relinquish my morals to commit torture.”

“Right. You prefer interrogation. Remind me how well that worked out for you?”

“It worked. You gave some very important intel. Furthermore, if you had told me about your relationship, I would have understood.” She confesses

“I know that now. I wasn’t aware of your hopelessly romantic susceptibility. For all I knew, you would have killed her.”

Cassandra sighs in defeat, “I concur.”

 

“Three years… That is an incredibly long time away from a loved one.” Cassandra reminses, “I’m surprised your reunion was not more…”

“Grand? Romantic?” He suggests, and the seeker nods in agreement. “It was, behind a closed door.” Varric notes her expression, “Not as passionate and lustful as you are imaging, Seeker. Hawke had hardly slept during her journey. We merely had a long bath, and crawled into bed. She fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.”

The corner of Cassandra’s mouth quirked up, “How did you cope, during your time apart?

 

“We were in contact the entire time, but you knew this.” Varric responds, “Encoded letters.”

“Love letters?” Cassandra askes, intrigued

“In every sense of the word.” Varric says. Cassandra looks puzzled, “Seeker, you’ve read my books. They are tame compared to those letters.”

She grumbles in disgust.

“You asked.” Varric responds, “It was hard, being apart. Dirty letters couldn’t replace Hawke. Don’t worry, we made up for lost time the next morning.” Varric smirks.

 

 

*****

  
  


Varric lay in his bed, awake. It was far too early in the morning. Hawke snuggled up to him, her back to his chest, leaching away his heat. Even with two quilts, he was still cold. Damn fereldan mountains. The fire had fizzled out hours ago, and Varric was not risking the slight warmth of the bed for the cold chill of the air, just to light it again. Another reason for staying in bed, _Hawke_. And he sure as hell wasn’t leaving her anytime soon. She had fallen asleep soon after their long awaited reunion, despite her protests that she wasn’t tired.

 

He turns his attention back to the scarred skin of her bare back. He curled his arm against her waist, and buried his face in the mess of hair at the nape of her neck. She stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent. He didn’t want to wake her, she was exhausted, but it was incredibly tempting.

 

He kissed the lightly freckled skin along her shoulder, noting the new scar that ran down her shoulder blade. Dark pink. He traced it lightly with his left hand. How did she get this one? He dismisses the thought from his head, returning to his soft kisses, moving closer to her neck. His other hand moves up her abdomen to the warmth of her breast. He feels the tender skin of her nipple, growing hard at his touch.

 

Hawke mumbles softly, curling her backside closer against him. “How early is it?”

“Early” his voice has the morning gruffness that he know she enjoys.

He brushes the hair from her face, exposing the tender spot of her neck below her ear.

“I’ve missed you.” he murmurs, before sucking on the skin.

Hawke pulls away, and rolling over to face him. She takes his face in her hands, and kissed him softly.

“I’ve missed you too.” Her fingers thread through his hair, grasping, pulling him closer. “

 

He kisses the tip of her nose softly, before returning to her neck. Varric continues further down, along her collarbone, down to her breasts. Hawke purrs in response and leans back into the pillows. He begins on the left, his fingertips graze over the ragged scar the Arishok gave her. He brushes his lips along it gently.

 

Her hand migrates to his jaw, guiding him to her nipple. He takes it in his mouth, suckling, and she lets out a deep sigh. Varric glances up, soaking up her heavy lidded expression of pleasure. He proceeds to her other breast, he circles it with his tongue, before moving onto a slightly more aggressive approach. He nips at the skin, leaving angry red marks. He gathers her nipple in between his lips, nibbling. Hawke’s breath hitches.

 

“ _F-fuckk_.” She mewls.

“You okay?” He murmurs, stopping to check on her.

 

She nods and smiles softly, guiding his face to carry on. Varric continued to nip, and bite at her chest, relishing in her moans. His hands moved down to her hips, massaging the skin. He moved on, kissing down her sternum, down her belly, to her pubic bone.

 

Varric stopped to scooch further down the bed, and to pull her legs around him. He kisses the soft skin of her inner thigh, sucking at the skin. He persists until she’s gyrating against him in anticipation.

“ _Varric_.” she pleads

 

He gives in, kissing further up her leg. He uses his fingers to part the skin, and pressed his lips against the soft valley of her skin. Hawke cried out in return, her legs quivering against the roughness of his stubble. He devoured her, in every sense of the word, sliding his tongue against her swollen clit.

 

The sheets tightened around her, as she griped and tugged at them. Her hips bucked, convulsing against his mouth. Her back arches. She whimpers, her breath catches in her throat. She falls back against the pillows, her legs twitching as she comes down.

 

Hawke is flushed from cheeks to cunt, and soaked with sweat. Varric shifts off her, and kisses her, his mouth damp.

 

“Did you enjoy yourself?” He whispers to her, his hands run over her naked body.

She snorts. “I may have.” Her voice breathy.

Varric smiles, pulling her into an embrace, and wraps the blanket around them.

  
  


*****

 

 

Hours later, they made their way to the war room. Varric would rather spend the whole day in bed, making up for three years of lost time, but the world was still hell bent on ending. What else was new.

 

Varric hadn’t been to the war room yet. The wall of the hallway leading up to the giant oak door was crumbling. Someone was smart enough to tack up a sheet to prevent the snow from blowing in. It was still too damn cold for his liking. The door was already ajar, and he could see frustrated faces of the Inquisitions leaders.

 

As they approached, he could hear Cullen failing to convince the Inquisitor to send troops to the exalted plains. Varric admired her tenacity. She was surrounded by varying opinions, telling her what she should and shouldn’t do. So far she hadn’t broken.

 

Josephine greeted them at the door, parchment in hand. “Champion.” She addressed Hawke, “-and Varric.” She hesitated, “Unfortunately you’ll have to remain outside.” Varric could see Cassandra glaring at him from behind the table.

 

There was no point in being stubborn in this moment, lives were at stake. But Hawke spoke before he could think of something witty. “And unfortunately, where I go, Varric goes. And I’m pretty damn sure you would like to hear what I have to say.” Maker, he had missed this.

 

Josephine turned, checking with the rest of the advisors. The inquisitor simply nodded, and they were ushered in, the door closing behind them. Chairs were pulled up around the carved table. Inquisitor Cadash sat in the middle, with Leliana on one side and the seeker on the other. Varric opted to sit as far away from her as possible. Hawke mirrored him, and sat in the chair next to the inquisitor.

 

“I understand you have information about the wardens.” Leliana spoke, getting right down to business.

“I might.” Hawke smirks “It’ll cost you. 10 sovereigns sound good?”

The entire table looked at her, unamused. Hawke awkwardly clears her throat. Clearly this room of people took things more seriously than she’d like.

 

“I assume you already know that Wardens have been disappearing.”

Leliana is the first to respond, “We tried for months to contact the Hero of Ferelden, with no avail, and we haven’t been able to contact any other Wardens.”

“Is it another Blight?” Josephine asked, her voice wavers slightly.

“I’m not sure.

“Has Blackwall spoken of any of these accusations?” Cullen addressing the Inquisitor.

“No, nothing. He has lost contact with many of the wardens.” She answered.

“Maybe you should have a word with him.” Hawke expresses.

The Inquisitor nodded in agreement.

 

Hawke starts, “It began about six months ago, and nobody really knows why. My sister, Bethany, is a Warden. She was my first tip. I have been investigating ever since, which hasn’t exactly been the easiest task. Wardens don’t like to share their information. But I found a Warden willing to share, they owed me a favour. However, he would only like to speak to the Inquisitor directly. ”

 

Cassandra scowls. “And what of your apostate friend? Is he your informant.”

“No.” Her expression hardens,  “I haven’t spoken, or heard from him at all. Not since Kirkwall.” Hawke continued. “The informant is Warden-Lieutenant.”

“We can make arrangements to have them come here.” Josephine suggested.

“He won’t. It's too risky for him to be seen colluding with the Inquisition. We have a rendezvous point. We can meet him there.”

“It's too risky.” Cullen interjects.

 

“If the other Wardens find out-” Hawke paused, “If something happens to him, we may never know what is going on. He is the only one that I have found that is willing to share information.” Hawke’s tone is firm.

“If it helps with your decision,” Hawke says, “He has information about Corypheus.”

“More than you?” Cassandra askes.

“Yes.” She turns her attention back to the Inquisitor. “I have limited information about Corypheus. Varric and I fought him, a few years ago. We killed him.”

Cassandra scoffs, “Clearly not.”

“We did.” Varric replies, finally piping up. “I stood over his ugly body. He was dead.”

 

“The Wardens had something to do with him. He was imprisoned by them, using my father's blood.” Hawke notes their expressions, “It’s a long story.”

“If Corypheus is involved, we should pursue this.” Leliana says.

 

Cadash addresses her advisors, “As I understand, we have three options. Meet with the informant, attempt to bring him here, or try to find another source for information.” She surveys their faces. “We will meet Hawke’s informant, at the rendezvous point.”

“ **Inquisitor-** ” Cullen starts.

“ _Commander_ , I have made my decision.” She stares him down.

“I’m advising that you change it. We can’t trust someone like _Hawke_.”

“Are you questioning my ability to make a decision? If you are worried, you can send troops ahead to survey the area.”

Cullen contemplates this, “We will do just that. I apologize.”

“Where is the rendezvous?” Cadash turns back to Hawke.

“Crestwood. I can lead you there.”

  


 

*****

  


 

Ah shit. He should have really considered what the road to crestwood would be like. It wasn’t terrible, at first. Now it was raining. Soak through your clothes to your bones, raining. Miserable was an understatement. But he’d be damned if he left Hawke’s side again.

She led the group with her head held high, strands of her hair plastered to the sides of her face. She had pulled it back at one point, but after the half a dozen fights with corpses, it had come undone. Cadash walked alongside her, with Iron Bull following behind. Dorian pulled up the rear, looking miserable in the rain, even more so than Varric.

 

After an especially tiresome fight against some Highwaymen, the Inquisition has now successfully claimed it’s first keep. Varric doesn’t care too much about the triumph, but he’s excited nonetheless. It’s a _keep_. An actual place with walls and fireplaces. Tonight he, and Hawke, will sleep in a dry bed, and not a soaking tent on the also soaking, hard ground.

 

They waste no time finding a room. It wasn’t anything to brag about. Stone walls, a bed.

 

They strip off their wet clothes and crawl into bed together. Varric is cold and wet. And grumpy. Hawke kisses his face and mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like "My grumpy dwarf." He makes a face at her.

"I’m freezing"

He chuckles. "I can tell." He wraps his thick arms around her. He whispers in her ear ‘I think I might have a solution for that.”

 

Her hair is damp, and its annoyingly cold as he runs his hands through it. He pulls her in closer. Kissing her properly. Her fingers grip his back, and she guides him to kiss her neck. He moves her damp hair off her neck and kisses the crease between her neck and jaw. Her hand slides further down his back, down to his ass.

 

"Your hands are fucking cold." He presses his nose against hers.

"Mm sorry." she smiles, and grabs his ass.

 

He takes her hand, not the one preoccupied with groping his ass, and warms them with his breath.

She laughs,  “Maker, I’m immensely glad that you emit heat like a hearth.”

“Unfortunately, I am cursed to endure your icicle hands for eternity.”

“Quit complaining.” She jests.

 

Varric goes back to kissing her neck, and he tugs at her thin undershirt. His fingertips graze the fabric above her nipples, hard from the cold. She's grasping at him. Maker, it's been too long, not counting their few nights at Skyhold. They don’t waste much time discarding of their remaining underclothes onto the stone floor.

 

Hawke gasps when Varric pushes his thigh in between her legs. He massages her nipple between his fingers.  Her fingers roll through his hair, and she pulls at the leather cord holding back his hair. It tumbles down, covering his face. She sits up slightly, to brush the strands from his face, admiring him.

 

He pushes her back against the mattress, and shifts her legs around his waist. He slides his thumb down her pelvic bone, down to her swollen clit. He brushes his thumb down, and back up again, continuing only stopping occasionally to admire her.

 

"Love," She says between deep breaths. "Stop. _Fucking_ teasing me."

 

He leans back in to kiss her, smiling. She opens her mouth to say something else, but he cuts her off by pressing two fingers inside her. She lets out a mewl that is music to his ears. He grinds his fingertips against the warmth, up inside her, moving back and forth. Her body responds, soaking his fingers. He begins curls his fingers upwards. She moans, pulling at the sheets.

 

Hawkes never been quiet, in any aspect of her life. Sex is no exception. Her moans and whines echo off the stone walls of the room, and are most likely traveling to other rooms. Hawke is too preoccupied to care.

 

She comes down from her second? third? They aren’t exactly counting. Varric eases up, his now wrinkled fingers back to her clit. He goes slowly, she's more sensitive now, every little touch now amplified.

 

Hawke lays against the pillows, eyes closed. "Give me a moment, and we can keep going."

"We don’t have to" He kisses her collarbone lightly.

She smirks at him. "Are you kidding? Three years, Varric. We need to make up for lost time.”

“You are right, as always.”

Hawke laughs, “Flattery will get you everywhere, _Messere_.”

“I want my legs over your shoulders next."

"Let me see what I can do about that."

 

He doesn’t waste any time, helping her hook her left leg over his right shoulder, while the other leg remains wrapped around his waist, one of the few bonuses of a large height difference.He guides himself inside her in one swift thrust. Hawke moans, sinking her head back into the pillow. She shifts her arms above her head, to grip the wooden headboard with both hands. He echos this, grasping the headboard with one hand, for balance. The other works its under her, to grip her ass.

 

Their hips move together, rhythmically. At some point, one of her hands moves down to grip his chest, leaving nail imprints. Varric urges other leg higher up, allowing him to push deeper inside her. She moans. The sound reverberates off the stone walls. Varric looks down at her, smiling at the thought of others hearing their activity.

 

It’s not much longer before, “Maker,” Varric calls out, “ _Fuck_.”  

 

He exhales, his muscles relax and he slides out of her. He lies there, his head resting on Hawke’s chest, with her limbs still tangled around him, in a sweaty, extacy filled bliss.

 

Hawke pulls his face to her, kissing him.  “You know, we should really do that more often.” she says.

Varric smiles, “Once the world stops trying to end, it’s the only thing we are gonna do, sweetheart.”

  
  
  


*****

 

 

Varric has buttoned up his shirt for once. He claims it's because ‘this wet shithole is cold.’ and ‘He has to protect the chest hair’, while both are true, he's also covering up the nail marks Hawke left on his chest during the events of the night before.

 

The entrance to the cave is well hidden. Shrubbery occludes the path, and mouth of the cave. Hawke leads the group through the dim passage. As the venture further, Varric can see firelight flickering, far off at the end. The group finally a wooden wall, built into the sides of the cave, complete with a door.

 

“This is a smugglers den.” Inquisitor Cadash remarks, noticing the symbol painted in red, beside the door. “A group called The Blind Men.”

“An _abandoned_ smugglers den.” Hawke tilts her head at the inquisitor. “Quit worrying. The Warden can be trusted.”

 

Hawke taps a sequence of knocks on the wood, and waits a moment, before opening the door. Varric can see the marginally well lit chamber behind

“After you, Inquisitor.” Hawke gestures , sarcastically.

 

 

*****

 

 

After an hour or so of discussion, it is decided that Stroud will meet the Inquisition in the Western Approach. Blood mages, wardens and a false calling, typical ‘World ending’ things. What else was new. Cadash thanks him for the information.

Varric gestures Hawke to follow. “I’m staying, Varric. I need to see this through."

Varric hesitates, he just got her back. "Alright."

"If you can stand the heat, I’ll see you in the approach." She smiles, pulling him into a seemingly platonic hug.

"I’ll bear it for you, sweetheart." He whispers to her.

He pulls away. “Don’t get yourself killed.” She gives him one of her signature smiles.

"Please, I’m basically unkillable at this point.

 

Varric turns away, to leave the cave. He turns back once, for a last glimpse, and Hawke gives him a small, sad wave. He understands why she’s staying. She feels the need to invest in things, to the full extent.

Varric catches up with Cadash at the mouth of the cave.

"It must be hard," she says. Varric raises an eyebrow, puzzled. "Saying goodbye to her. Again."

"Yeah." Varric mutters, and heads out into the rain.

 

*****

  


The Western Approach is hot. Too **fucking** hot. Hot is an understatement. The unbearable heat of the sand radiates through his boots, and the sun beats on his back. Varric can feel parts of his body sweating that he didn’t think had the ability to sweat. He had traded his duster and shirt for sleeveless leather armour, but he was now regretting that decision. Despite slathering himself in the sun lotion the Inquisition healers had provided, his skin is now angry, pink, and warm to the touch.

 

He trails behind the group, muttering to himself about how nobody should step foot in a place like this.

"Varric, we can all hear your whining." Cassandra says, annoyed.

Cadash laughs, she’s enjoying this. For a brief moment, she’s allowing herself to have fun. She slows her pace to match Varric’s.

“But Seeker,” She lower her tone to imitate his voice, “It's hotter than Orzammars asshole out here.”

Bull has to stop to catch his breath, his hearty, belly laugh echos off the flame coloured rocks.

 

The group meets up with Hawke and Stroud at a rocky outcrop, about a quarter of a  kilometer from a crumbling ruin.

“Varric!” Hawke exclaims, when she notices the groups arrival. She hugs him. “What the fuck happened to  your face? If I knew you’d get yourself burnt, I wouldn’t have offered to meet you out here.”

 

Varric rolls his eyes, “Offered? You begged me to meet you. You’re useless in a fight without me having your back.” He teases.

Cassandra groans, “Enough.”

“Stroud, what’s the plan?” Cadash asks, looking over to the ruin of an old Tevinter Ritual Tower.

 _Tenvinter_. Shit, this was going to get violent.

 

 

*****

 

 

_The battle has been brief but bloody. Like a rising action in any good story, they leaned valuable information, but the miscreant had managed to escape their grasp. Erimond was his name. A Magister working for the Venatori, and the one responsible for manipulating the Wardens.Inquisition troops reported seeing him flee to the south, towards an old Warden outpost._

 

_Cadash had gotten to work by sending letters to Inquisition troops asking them to meet them immediately so they can move forward towards Adamant Fortress._

  


 

*****

 

 

Adamant is a war zone. Varric could hear cracking sounds of the battering ram hitting the wooden gate, as he stood behind the cavalry, waiting. Hawke had gone with the advance team, to find an alternative, undetectable entrance. Her specialty, sneaking in someplace. But as the flaming projectiles rained down on the fortress, he wished Hawke had a less risky speciality. Not that the battlefront was any less dangerous. Arrows from the Warden archers came down on the front lines in sleets.  


Once the siege engines had managed to bank onto the walls, and the gate came crashing down, the Inquisitor- along with a few companions, including himself- descended onto the fortress.

 

Varric manages to hear Cullen say, “Then make your way to the battlements, Our soldiers will-.” but the noise of battle drowns the rest.

 

After they passed through the broken remnants of the wooden gate, They started making their way through the mess of gore, fire, debris, and crumbled castle blocking their path. Maneuvering through the bodies of dead wardens and inquisition soldiers. Varric recognized a few, their blank, bloody, faces staring at him.

 

The Inquisitor leads them up, through the garrison. Their first encounter was with a group of Warden swordsmen, who were persuaded to stand down. Cadash explained that they were only here to stop Clarel, and they complied, even offering to help.

 

Finally, after far too many rage demons for Varric’s liking,  they reached the battlements.

  


 

*****

  


 

The bridge crumbles and they fall through the rift.

 

Varric lands hand, falling flat onto his back. He opened his eyes, expecting to see the dark, smoke filled, sky. _Fuck_ .  He pulls himself up from the ground. Hawke is standing on a floating chunk of rock, to his left. _Upside down_ to his left.

“Hawke!” He calls out to her, “You okay?”

She gives him an unenthusiastic thumbs up.

 

“Where are we?” Cadash asks.

Vivienne answers “The Fade. The raw Fade, if I am correct.”

“This is a new one.” Hawke says.

Varric heard Sera mutter to herself, “...Shit. Magic fucking, _crap_.”

 

The group helps each other off the various floating rocks. Aside from some minor bruises, everyone appears to be okay, as well as they could be, for being in the fade. Sera was clearly shakens, uncharacteristically quiet. The whole group was.

 

There were puddles everywhere. Filled with boats and seaweed. Odd things as well. Floating rocks, with fully set dining tables on the underside. It didn’t feel like the fade he had been to before, not even in the slightest. That felt, well what he assumed non-dwarf dreams felt like. The air felt like early springtime in kirkwall. Foggy, cold. But at the same time, Varric felt warm. Not in a comforting way. But in a swampy, uncomfortable way.

 

“In our world the rift with the demons was nearby, in the main hall. Can we escape the same way?” Stroud said, finally offering up a solution.

 

“It is.. Possible.” Vivienne replies.

 

They all exchange glances, before turning to look at the Inquisitor.

 

“I don’t know shit about the fade, but that sounds like a reasonable solution. ” She pauses, surveying their surroundings, “That looks like it could be our rift.” Cadash draws their attention to a swirling green cloud-like rift, off in the distance.

 

“Let’s move our asses, and get the fuck out of this fade shit.” Sera says,

  


 

*****

 

 

The fade was filled with noises and had a hollow feeling. They walked for what could have been 5 minutes, or 12 days. He couldn’t tell if he was hungry, or needed to piss. All Varric felt was tired. And fear. Varric felt like he was being watched, not just by the Nightmare, but by eyes, looking at him through cracked mirrors, and bare skulls. Seeing the Divine had shaken him, even if she wasn’t real.

 

Varric has a dreaded feeling in his stomach that he shouldn't be there. He really shouldn't be here. Dwarves don't go to the fade. The fade, this version at least, isn’t exactly what Varric expected it to be. Yeah, technically he had been here before, but it wasn’t like this. It is indescribable. Well, not exactly. He is a writer after all. ‘Green, not like the colour of summer leaves. Shit, is this really what he was thinking about? They’d have to get out of here before there would be another book.

 

“They ought to think about redecorating this place” Hawke quips. “Maybe light a candle,” Hawke makes a face, “It reeks of death.”

“And _piss._ ” Sera adds. She laughs, in an attempt to cover her anxiety.

 

Cassandra groans in response to their childlike comments. “This is not the time, Champion.”

Hawke grins at her, “It is always the time, Seeker. Lighten up.”

 

Cadash turns to them, “Normally, I am all about joking around, but we have no idea what we are dealing with.”She turns, hearing a roar off in the distance. She clenches her jaw, “Let’s keep moving.”

 

Hawke looks over at him and mouths ‘ _Buzz-kill_.”

  


 

*****

 

 

Hexagonal pillars of red lyrium seemed to grow from the twisted stone columns that lined their path. Thorny red plants grew in patches on the path, tugging at their shins as the walk by The sky, if you could even call it that, was an uneasy green. Off in the distance, like some sort of twisted sunrise, it glowed red and orange. Streams of water flowed off some of the suspended rocks, like waterfalls.

  
  
“Hawke. Did you really think that you could save them?” The Nightmare’s voice echos out, “Save your friends, save varric? You cant save anyone. Did you really think that helping the inquisition would undo all the harm you have caused.”  
  
Hawke mutters under her breath, “I didn't ask for your opinion.”  
  
“And Varric. This entire thing is your fault. You’re the one who found the red lyrium idol. Your brother is the one who brought it to the surface. Your brother let it fall into the knight commander’s hands. It drove her mad. All those mages that she killed, and made tranquil? That’s on you. How many people have you inadvertently? better word. indirectly. killed? Hundreds? _Thousands_ ?”  
  
Fuck _off_ .  
  
“The only reason that Corypheus is free is because you lead Hawke to him. Millions will die because of you, dwarf”  
  
“ **Fuck off.** ” He yells out to the sky.  
  
The nightmare merley laughs in response, and moves onto ridiculing Vivienne.

  


 

*****  


 

 

The Nightmare is considerably larger than Varric expected it to be, and even more terrifying. He shouldn’t be surprised, considering the name. It looked like a disfigured spider, with an extra few legs and far too many eyes. If he stares directly at it, it’s face almost looked like- He shakes off the thought.

 

The spirit Divine explodes, in shards of white, throwing the Nightmare back.

 

“The rift!” Cassandra calls out.  


The jagged, swirling portal lay just beyond the giant creature. Through it, the image of a warped Adamant could be seen. The group helps each other up the rocky cliff to freedom.  
  
The giant creature reamgers, blocking Hawke, The Inquisitor and Strouds path to the rift.  
Varric turns, his face twists in horror. He can see Hawke, her weapon ready to fight.  He moves to help, but a hand grabs his wrist and pulls him through the rift.  


 

 

*****

  


 

It takes him a moment to remember where he is, fade stuff still swirling in his head. He’s back at Adamant. By the sounds of it, the battle has ended. In fact, the sky is alrighty starting to lighten. They must have been gone for hours.

 

He turns. _Hawke_. He stares back at the rift he had fallen through. It crackles with green magic. If he listens, he can hear voices. He takes a step forward closer to the rift. The voices are distorted, and mostly drowned out by a loud roar. Just being near it makes him queasy. But, he can’t turn away.

 

"Come on, Hawke." He says to himself.

Everyone has turned to watch the rift, holding their breath. Wardens and Inquisition alike.

The rift explodes and Cadash steps out. Alone. Varric's heart falls.

 

"Where's Hawke?" he can’t stop words from coming out his mouth.

Cadash stands there looking at him for what feels like an eternity, covered in dirt, guts and fade stuff.

 

"She- and Stroud stayed behind, I-" Cadash looks at him sorfully, “I’m sorry, Varric.”

His expression hardens, “ _No_.” He tries to shove past her, towards the still open rift.

She stands in his path, “Varric-”

 

“ **_No!_ **You can’t fucking leave her in there!”  

“She chose to stay.” Cadash grabs him by the shoulders, forcing him to turn his gaze from the rift. “Varric, she volunteered to stay.”

 

Hawke is gone.

 

His entire body goes numb and he sinks to his knees, defeated, grief stricken.The air around him feels heavy, like it was trying to suffocate him. He face feels wet, he could be crying or covered in blood, but he doesn’t take notice. Varric stares at the rift with longing. The mangled voices that were coming from it before, have long gone quiet. All he can hear are the small crepitating bursts of energy.

 

Hawke is _dead._

  


The Inquisitor steps forward, to close the rift, raising her left hand. The rift spatters, as if retaliating to her threat. Her mark bursts with the same energy, struggling to close the portal. Without warning, the rift explodes, throwing the Inquisitor back, onto the ground.

 

Hands reach for their swords, staffs, knives. A loud, angry bellow, most likely from a giant demon, rings out. Varric forces himself onto his feet, and readies Bianca.If rift wasn’t so loud, you could hear the entire crowd, of Wardens, and Inquisition agents, collectively hold their breath.

  


The rift crackles, and Hawke jumps out, quite literally, and crashes down hard onto the stones. She's covered head to toe in what looks like spider guts.  She looks wet, covered in goo, and blood.

 

The Inquisitor lunges forward, taking advantage of the rifts lull, to close it. It shatters in a blast of green and black haze.

 

Varric is next to Hawke in seconds, she sits up, coughs, and spits out something that also looks like spider guts. Varric kisses her anyway. Right damn there, in front of everyone. Not that they are paying too much attention, the Inquisitor has already begun another heroic speech.

 

Hawke pulls away from the kiss to catch her breath.

"I was about to jump in after you." He starts, being the damn romantic he is.

"That’s a damn shame, you really should have. I hear the fade is nice this time of year, very romantic." she smiles, Maker, she _really_ is covered in guts.

 

Varric pulls her into a hug. Hawke yelps, "I think I broke my wrist when I fell."

"It wouldn’t be the first time.” Varric helps her off the ground, Let's get you a healer."

  


 

*****

  


 

“So you see, seeker, Hawke very clearly seduced me.” Varric lies “I really can’t be to blame.”

Cassandra scowls, leaning back into her chair. Lips pursed in feigned displeasure, trying her best to hide the fact that she rather enjoyed Varric’s romantic tale.

 

“Is he telling lies again?” Hawke says, coming up behind them. She leans over the armchair to kiss Varric on the top of his head. “I’ve been looking for you.” She settles herself on the arm of his chair.

 

“How long have you been back?” Varric asks.

“Oh, a couple of hours. I took a bath though, I was covered head to toe in mud.” She brushes a damp strand of hair from her face. “Remind me to avoid going to the Mire.”

 

Cassandra butts in, “What were you saying about lies?”

Hawke laughs, “Varric is a self proclaimed liar, Seeker.” She turns to Varric, “I only caught the last few minutes, but you should write your story down. It would sell.”

 

“I would hope so.” He responds, “I didn’t pull it out of my ass, I’ve been planning to write an epic romance. I’ll change a couple of details, obviously.”

“Names?” She asks, and he shrugs jokingly, confirming her answer.

 

“Was any of it real?” Cassandra askes, in an accusatory tone, her eyebrows furrowing.

“Eh, the emotions behind it are real, but the plot is fabricated.” He leans forward, “Hold on, did you really believe all of it?”

“You are _unbelievable_.” Cassandra grumbles, and storms off, leaving Varric and Hawke alone.

 

The moment she’s rounded the corner, out of view, Varric pulls Hawke onto his lap and kisses her properly. He engulfs her, wrapping his arms around her.

“I missed you.” He presses her forehead to hers.

She hums in response, “I missed you too.”

 

  


*****

  


 

They find a spot, away from the fuss, to sit together. Varric, having calmed down from the drastic change in emotions, is quiet. Hawkes wrist is bandaged up, poorly. She had insisted that the healers tended to the more seriously wounded, and bandaged it up herself.

 

They sit down, against one of less damaged walls, looking out to the sky, dawn creeping up the horizon.

 

"I thought I lost you." Varric confesses "Again" he adds.

Hawke stops herself from saying something, probably a quip. "Varric, I-"

Varric interupts her before she can start. "Please, don’t do that, not again." he pulls her in close "You’ve already sacrificed enough. You don"t need to add your life to that list."

 

She answers him with a kiss. "Alright, I- I promise."

"You’re just gonna stop being a big damn hero just like that?"

She laughs, "I can try. I promise that I’ll try. I can’t promise that I’ll stop helping people." Hawke kisses him again, "I love you."

Varric kisses her back, “ _I love you_.” He wraps his arm around her, pulling her close. She rests her head on his shoulder.

 

They sit there, embraced, watching the pink creep into the lightening blue. Pale yellow strokes paint ribbons of colour, bursting over the mountains. Orange follows, reflecting off the scattered clouds. The sun crests over the Gamordan Peaks.

 

“Hmm.” Hawke notes, “Orlais is a shithole, but you have to admit, that is damn beautiful sunrise.” She smiles up at him.

Varric kisses her- still disgusting, covered in fade shit- hair, “Yeah.” He agrees. “It is damn beautiful.”

 

“Hawke?” Varric askes. She shifts her head to look up at him. He smiles at her, his gaze full of love. “Let’s get married”

  


 

_Epilogue:_

  
  


_Not wasting much time, a week after returning from Adamant Fortress, Varric and Hawke got married. There was a simple ceremony in the Skyhold garden, just them and the chantry sister who officiated. The world looked like it was ending, they wanted to be together._

 

_The nature of their relationship was not kept secret for long. Hawke and Varric were subtle in public, most of the time. But their veiled flirting caught the attention of Iron Bull, among others._

 

_Eventually, after Corypheus was defeated, Cassandra heard a murmur of gossip from one of the soldiers, who claimed to have seen Varric kissing the champion in the tavern one night. She promptly reread ‘The Tale of the Champion’ cover to cover, looking for hints of their possible love affair. The copious times that Varric describes her as beautiful, stand out to her in a new context._

 

_But with no mentions of love, or romance, Cassandra was left with the option of asking Varric himself. She really couldn’t help herself._

 

              

   

“Is that how you’re ending it?” Hawke said, reading the words over his shoulder.

Varric tilts his head up to look at her, “Do you have a better idea?”

She taps his cheek, “Of course I do. It involves a very intimate scene between the two lovers.”

“ _Hawke closes the gap between them, kissing him deeply_.” He narrates.

“You know I hate it when you do that.”

“Sure about that?”

“Definitely.” Hawke kisses him anyway.

 

 

*****

**Author's Note:**

> I was given 2 prompts, and I chose to merge them into one, much longer story. SaintLeona, I really hope you enjoyed this and I hope I gave your prompts justice. It was going to be a bit more simple, but the story chose to take a life of its own.  
> My prompts were;  
> 1\. "DA2 timeline. It's the anniversary of Leandra's death (you can decide if it's a year or more) Hawke doesn't want to be alone, so naturally she looks up her best friend, with a bottle of the alcohol du jour. Some words of comfort and lots of shot later, they are both drunk out of their gourds, and one or the other (or both) initiate a kiss. It can go farther than that or not, and the morning can bring memory loss or not. Up to you. Can end with angst or hearts and flowers and rainbows."  
> 2\. "Inquisition era. Hawke and Varric have been in a relationship for a while, but have been hiding it for both of their respective safety. However, with both of them at Skyhold, and seeing as they haven't been together in some while, it gets harder and harder to hide the truth. Who figures it out first (did Bull know all along)? What are the reactions of the Inquisitors Inner CIrcle (I'd especially love to see what Cassandra thinks)?  
> Anyway, they go to Adamant, and while my Inquisitor (for this Hawke anyway) chose Stroud to stay in the Fade, that doesn't necessarily have to be the choice here."
> 
> Thank you SaintLeona, for the inspiring prompts,and thanks to everyone for reading. Extra thanks to my friend for listening to my constant rambles, and giving me her input. Also a shout-out to 'text to speech' for helping my dyslexic ass. (forgive me if there are still errors)  
> Also I made the leap and wrote smut for the first time, so. ;))


End file.
